


Margin

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis wants sex but ceebs.





	Margin

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis is too lazy to stretch and clean himself for sex, he thinks it's a hassle, so Ignis always bottoms. +Ignis is the one suggesting new things in bed all the time, Noctis would be happy to do missionary all the time.” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=10043019#cmt10043019).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Eventually, he manages to drag himself out of bed, simply because his raging hard on is becoming a bigger annoyance than the thought of getting up. It isn’t particularly unusual for Noctis to have vivid wet dreams of his personal advisor, usually either in his current bed or his childhood one from the palace. They’ve worked out a routine for such a circumstance, and unfortunately, it doesn’t involve the real-life Ignis returning to bed whenever Noctis calls.

The nap was supposed to be a light one, but as always, it lasted longer—the windows Noctis passes show a darkened orange sky. Noctis pads past them in sweats and socks, out into the living space. Ignis is in the kitchenette, just where Noctis thought he would be. He’s chopping carrots, which is a stupid thing to do, because Noctis isn’t going to eat them. 

Noctis’ scoff dies out into a yawn instead. He bumbles forward with it, coming to glue himself against Ignis’ back. He buries his face in Ignis’ trim shoulders, his arms wrapping around Ignis’ lithe waist. Ignis simply continues chopping. By now, he must be more than used to Noctis’ random clinging.

When a second yawn’s finished its course, Noctis mumbles into Ignis’ purple shirt, “Did you get my text?”

Instead of just saying yes, Ignis wryly asks, “Isn’t it a bit silly to text me when we’re in the same apartment?”

“I wasn’t awake enough to shout.”

“You could have simply walked—”

“The whole point was to give you warning _before_ I was up and moving.”

Ignis releases a withered sigh. He’s probably fighting the temptation to roll his eyes. Noctis ignores that knowledge. What matters is that Ignis is warm and plaint in his arms, and: “Did you do it?”

Of course, Ignis quietly answers, “Yes.” He always does it. He’s never failed Noctis once. Noctis rewards him with a kiss against his shoulder. As soon as Noctis’ hands start moving, Ignis puts down his knife.

He wisely pushes his cutting board aside. Noctis lets Ignis meticulously clear the counter as he makes his way down Ignis’ handsome body. He lets his fingers dig into the taut curves of Ignis’ ass, kneading the tight cheeks and thrusting into them—he pushes Ignis forward and grinds him against the counter’s edge. He’s glad it’s rounded. He gives Ignis’ bottom a particularly hard squeeze, and Ignis lets out a fluttering gasp. Noctis is just getting harder.

He wants his dick inside Ignis _now_. Just that. Because as much as he sometimes wonders what it would be like to have it the other way around, to feel Ignis _inside him_ , he never gets that far. He never feels like bothering with the trouble of stretching and cleaning himself for sex. But Ignis never seems to mind doing extra work for Noctis. Ignis does everything he’s told.

Noctis takes hold of both of Ignis’ wrists and pulls them back, passing them off into one hand, and uses the other to press right between Ignis’ shoulder blades, slowly pushing him down against the counter. Ignis obediently bends in two. Face turned to the side, cheek against the smooth surface and eyes dilated beneath his thin glasses, Ignis asks, “ _Here?_ ”

“I’m perfectly fine to just do missionary all the time,” Noctis mutters, and he is—he just wants to _fuck Ignis_ and doesn’t really care how. “You’re the one that suggested we try new things.” And really, fucking Ignis over the kitchen counter isn’t exactly new—Noctis has been fantasizing about it for years. He just never got around to it before.

Ignis murmurs, “I wasn’t protesting.”

“Good, because I want it _now_.”

A shiver runs down Ignis’ spine. Noctis watches the movement with increasing hunger, only wishing he’d thought to rip away Ignis’ shirt before pushing Ignis into place. He could still do it. He could even summon a dagger and tear it off. But in the end he only reaches under to unhook Ignis’ belt. He thinks of tying up Ignis’ wrists with it, but they haven’t discussed that particular fantasy yet, so the belt winds up on the floor. Ignis’ pants are too tight to join it. Noctis pushes them down himself, hiking the thick material just beneath Ignis’ cheeks, stretched across his thighs. Ignis’ breath hitches at his own exposure. Noctis feels the same thrill. Fucking Ignis has never gotten old.

The best view comes when Noctis pries Ignis’ cheeks apart. Just as Noctis’ text requested, Ignis’ hole is stretched and wet, leaking little gobs of lube as it flexes under Noctis’ greedy stare. Fetching Ignis’ hands again, Noctis places them on either cheek and orders, “Hold yourself open.” Ignis wordlessly obeys. When Noctis spares a glance up, he finds Ignis’ face lit up with a bright blush. But Ignis’ hazy eyes and plush, parted lips urge Noctis to continue. He pushes his sweats down quicker, and then he’s lining his cock up with Ignis’ asshole.

The first push is only a few centimeters in and has Ignis crying out. Noctis knows it can’t hurt—Ignis always prepares himself so well, and Ignis has taken Noctis’ cock so many times. He never seems to be any less sensitive for it. He whimpers as Noctis rocks deeper, and Noctis feels a swell of pride over that—over being able to feed Ignis enough pleasure to spill those gorgeous noises. As lazy as he is, he won’t cross the line into an ungrateful lover. He pushes through his own sea of bliss to reach one hand beneath Ignis and take hold of his cock. Ignis moans and thrusts helplessly into Noctis’ hand, unable to go far with his ass skewered by Noctis’ shaft. Noctis gives him a little squeeze for his effort and feeds him more dick. Ignis takes it with a wanton whine. 

The first few thrusts are just sliding in and out, getting deeper each time and acclimating to the cloying heat of Ignis’ perfect body. Noctis pumps Ignis’ cock unevenly, not enough to bring him anywhere, just idly keeping him in check. Ignis splays his hands across the counter, simply holding on. Noctis gives him another firm thrust, then readjusts.

He tries to find the best angle, not just for him, but the one that’ll make Ignis scream the loudest, and he knows he’s managed when Ignis stutters, “ _N-Noct!_ ” So that’s the angle Noctis stays with. He finally sets the rhythm he wants, really getting into it, and he pounds Ignis with as much fervour as he did in his dream. Or maybe more. He often thinks he just wants a casual fuck, something quick and easy, but then when he gets his hands on Ignis, he finds himself wanting every last piece of Ignis he can get, wanting Ignis hard and fast and thorough.

Invigorated, he fucks Ignis like that, slams Ignis into the counter and jerks his cock against the edge. Ignis lightly writhes within Noctis’ grasp and makes a slew of pretty moans. Noctis can’t help but growl, “ _Fuck_... you feel good...”

“As... do you...” Ignis groans between his panting. “But... you always do... perhaps you should feel what it’s like sometime to—ahh... to bottom...”

Noctis is too distracted with topping Ignis to really think about it. He mutters, “Too much hassle,” and gives Ignis another firm thrust that has him arching up. Noctis pushes him back down and pounds into his hole. It clenches tight around Noctis’ cock, sucking at him, moist and velvety and amazing. He knows he’s reaching his limit.

He comes with a wild cry, jerking forward to fill Ignis up with cum. They never use condoms anymore—it’s a waste of time and money, and he’d rather feel Ignis raw. Ignis shudders and lets him. Noctis grinds in every last drop, forcing himself to keep pumping Ignis through it.

Just when Noctis is starting to come down from his high, Ignis finishes. He gasps and splatters the counter, coming all over Noctis’ fingers. Noctis waits until Ignis is trembling in his arms before finally letting go.

He pulls his flagging cock out with a wet pop. A trail of cum and lube follows him, smearing the puckered brim of Ignis’ abused hole. Noctis briefly considers cleaning it up, cleaning _Ignis_ up, maybe even taking him back to the shower and lovingly washing him off. 

But it’s hotter to think of his seed still clenched in Ignis’ ass, and besides, it’s Noctis’ first day off in a month. And all he wants to do is plop down on the couch and put on the television. So he just bends down to kisses Ignis’ back, and then he hikes his sweats up and heads for the living room. 

Ignis stays slumped against the counter. It takes him a minute to murmur, “You really should learn to put more effort into things.” When Noctis lifts a brow at him, Ignis corrects, “Not that I’m complaining about the sex. But as to some of the surrounding circumstances...”

“I love you, Iggy.”

Noctis doesn’t throw that around lightly. He only says it when they’re alone. Only when he really means it. Ignis pauses halfway in lifting off the counter, cheeks flushed a vivid scarlet. 

He opens his mouth but only winds up nodding curtly. He loves Noctis too. He says it all the time, and what’s more, he _shows_ it. 

He takes a minute to cool down, then buckles himself up. Noctis turns on a movie and watches Ignis out the corner of his eyes. Ignis returns to chopping carrots. Noctis dozes against the armrest and daydreams about sticking those disgusting vegetables somewhere more fun.


End file.
